Waking up to over 400 WhatsApp notifications every morning is not exactly the relaxed Andalusian summer I had in mind. With temperatures soaring well into the 30s most days, my only real ambition for the season was to perfect the art of the siesta. Maybe flop in the pool when I’m feeling wild. Instead, I find myself utterly glued to my mobile. And not for anything productive, like booking a cultural tour or checking the forecast (spoiler: it’s scorchio). Oh no – I am completely hooked on what can only be described as the greatest, strangest live reality show never filmed: Los Tablazos Unfiltered.
Two months ago, one of our well-meaning neighbours came up with the bright idea to start a WhatsApp group for our little Los Tablazos rural community. It began innocently enough – messages about missing cats, power cut alerts and mild outrage about tourists arriving home late at night on noisy scooters. Well, 8pm. The kind of thrilling middle-aged lives we lead here.
But then, the reality show started to get a tad more interesting. First came the attempted break-ins on the mountainside. That’s when Alejandro appeared. Local firefighter. 30 years young. Tall, dark, smouldering eyes. The kind of Spanish bombero who could extinguish a fire just by looking at it sternly. He offered to organise night patrols. Within hours, word had spread, and the group had doubled. Suddenly, every woman in a five-mile radius had developed a deep interest in their civic duty. Swiftly followed by their suspicious husbands, who insisted on joining Alejandro’s patrols, “Safety in numbers,” they said. Hmmmm.
And just like that, our quiet hillside was lit up at night like a midsummer rave – flashing torches, walkie-talkies crackling, Jesús stumbling around in military-grade night vision goggles from the ‘70s.
Tensions ran high. Testosterone levels ran higher. Especially when Alejandro was spotted in Nerja having breakfast with Jesús’ youngest daughter. Then came the mule.
Rafael, a third-generation farmer in his 80s, inspired by Alejandro’s success with the younger women, decided it was time for him to impress the lovely widows of the hillside by getting a younger, more energetic mule. What he got was a four-legged escape artist with zero interest in ploughing. The moment he spotted the harness, he bolted (the mule, not Rafael) – sprinting across fields, through gardens and (famously) straight through someone’s kitchen during breakfast. Search parties were constantly being summoned via WhatsApp at all hours, and on more than one occasion, someone chasing the mule ended up accidentally uncovering one of Alejandro’s ‘secret patrol liaisons’.
And last week, the Great Paella War broke out. At the local feria (big festival), Antonia and Ana-Maria – two scary grandmothers with lifelong rivalries, apparently born out of Ana-Maria stealing Antonia’s young beau at their school dance – set up competing paella stands. The WhatsApp group became a digital paella battlefield. Accusations flew. Loyalties tested. Someone claimed Antonia used supermarket stock cubes and has not been heard from since.
So, no, I haven’t had the lazy, peaceful summer I’d planned. But I have gained something far more entertaining: a front row seat to the most charming, sun-drenched soap opera in Europe. Right, must dash, I’m pretty sure that’s Rafael’s mule is outside eating myprecious roses…
Postcards from Andalucía, Lady Muck Style
By Catherine Saunders / Read more at www.ladymuck.style
